The Chinese Orange Mystery

“Because I hadn’t quite figured it out,” snapped Ellery.

“Oh, then you know now why she did it?”

“On examination it’s simplicity itself. I was stupid not to have thought of it instantly.”

“Well, why?”

But they had reached the twenty-second floor, and Ellery preceded his father and the Sergeant from the elevator without replying.

Mrs. Shane gulped a frightened, bosom-raising greeting from her desk. But the Inspector ignored her and strode straight to the door of Donald Kirk’s office and opened it without knocking. Sergeant Velie grunted: “Hey, wake up, flattie,” to a uniformed officer who had been drowsing on a chair near the door to the death-room.

Osborne rose from his desk and dropped his stamp-tongs. “Inspector¯Mr. Queen! Is anything wrong again?” He was a little pale.

“Yet,” growled the Inspector. “Listen, Osborne. Is there a piece of jewelry in Kirk’s collection known as the Grand Duchess’s Tiara?”

Osborne looked puzzled. “Why, certainly.”

“And one called the Red Brooch?”

“Yes. Why¯”

“A beaten-silver lavaLli&re with an emerald pendant?”

“Yes. But what’s happened, Inspector Queen?”

“Don’t you know?”

Osborne looked from the old man’s grim face to Ellery’s, and slowly sank back into his chair. “N-no, sir. I don’t have much to do with Mr. Kirk’s collection of antique jewelry, as he can tell you. He keeps them in a vault at the bank, and only he has access to them.”

“Well,” barked the Inspector, “they’re gone.”

“Gone?” gasped Osborne. He was utterly and sincerely flabbergasted. “The entire collection?”

“Just some choice pieces.”

“Does¯does Mr. Kirk know?”

“That,” said the Inspector with a sour smile, “is what I’m going to find out.” He jerked his head at his two companions. “Come on. I just wanted Osborne’s corroboration. Just in case.” He chuckled and started for the door.

“Inspector!” Osborne clutched the sides of his desk. “You’re¯you’re not going to question Mr. Kirk now, are you?”

The Inspector stopped short, whirled around, and cocked his head at Osborne with an expression of complete unfriendliness. “And suppose I am, Mister Osborne? What’s it to you?”

“But they’re all¯I mean,” said Osborne, licking his pale lips, “Mr. Kirk’s having a little celebration, Inspector. It wouldn’t be nice¯”

“Celebration?” The Queens regarded each other. “In the Kirk rooms?”

“No, sir,” said Osborne eagerly. “In Miss Llewes’s suite on the floor below. You see, she invited them all to a cocktail party when she heard that Mr. Kirk had become engaged. So that’s why I¯”

“Engaged 1” murmured Ellery. “Will wonders never cease, O Power of Darkness? I take it, Ozzie, that this is a Sino-American alliance?”

“Eh? Oh, yes, sir. Miss Temple. Under the circumstances you couldn’t very well go¯”

“The Temple girl, huh?” muttered the Inspector.

“While we’re here,” drawled Ellery. “Ozzie, did you ever hear of a postage stamp¯” his eyes swept lazily over the stamp-littered desk¯”of Foochow, $1 denomination, ochre and black, with the black erroneously printed on the gum-side of the stamp?”

Osborne sat very still. His weary eyes shifted, and his knuckles became a dirty white. “Why¯I can’t¯remember any such error,” he muttered.

“Liar,” said Ellery cheerfully. “We know all about it, Ozzie. If I may call you Ozzie . . . .”

“You¯know?” said Osborne with difficulty, raising his eyes.

“Oh, certainly. Don Kirk himself told us.”

Osborne took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “I’m sorry, Mr. Queen. I thought¯”

“Come on,” snapped the Inspector impatiently. “You, there!” he bellowed at the policeman, who started and went pale. “You see that this man Osborne here doesn’t touch that house ‘phone for five minutes. Be good, Osborne . . . . Well, come on, boys. If there’s any fun we might’s well be in on it, too!”

* * *

The three rooms of the Llewes suite were directly below the Kirk apartment. The door was opened in response to the Inspector’s ring by an angular maid with cubistic cheeks and an unlovely pointed nose. She began to protest in a weak whining Cockney voice, but then she saw the Sergeant and fell back gaping. The Inspector pushed past her without ceremony and strode through a small reception-foyer into a sitting-room, which was noisy with laughter and conversation. Both ceased magically.

They were all there¯Dr. Kirk, Marcella, Macgowan, Berne, Jo Temple, Donald, Irene Llewes; and there were two women and a man whom the Queens had never seen before. One of the strangers was a tall flashing woman of foreign appearance who clung to Felix Berne’s arm with a queer possessive-ness. All were in evening attire.

Miss Llewes came swiftly forward, smiling. “Yes?” she said. “Yes? You see, I have guests, Inspector Queen. Perhaps another time . . . “

Macgowan and Donald Kirk were staring at the silent trio very intently.

Dr. Kirk, his old nose purple, wheeled himself furiously forward. “What’s the meaning of this latest intrusion, gentlemen? Can’t decent people ever have protection from meddling busybodies in this confounded madhouse?”